


the memory of you

by imnotanironwall



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: M/M, Post-Kingdom Hearts III, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 19:43:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21325627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imnotanironwall/pseuds/imnotanironwall
Summary: Isa looks at Terra and longs for a Nobody who's no more.
Relationships: Implied Saix/Xemnas, Isa/Terra (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 34





	the memory of you

Radiant Garden isn't home anymore. A constant reminder of past deeds and people long gone, of hopes lost and living nightmares. 

He refuses to go to Twilight Town. He tells Lea he wants a fresh start but the truth lies elsewhere. Being with his childhood friend awakens memories he'd rather forget. Besides, he can't find it in himself to face Roxas and Xion - he knows, of course, that they would forgive him, but he is not ready. Not now, not yet, not when everything is still too raw. 

He doesn't find home, but the Land of Departure welcomes him nonetheless. He explores the castle, never meeting a soul on his way, and the solitude comforts him. He finds books he had never heard of, reads about things he could have never envisioned before. No one ever bothers him. Those who might seek him grieve the long white corridors, fearing the flashes of a life once lost. There is no guilt where it should be and Isa blesses the tranquility. 

When the night falls, he starts a fire and watches the wood burn and crackle. He stays awake for a long time, back turned to the moon shining through the large windows, fists clenched. He doesn't dare move in his bed, less the shadows that await in the dark attack. And in the quiet of his mind, the flames take shapes and dance to music he cannot hear, until he falls asleep and they die down. 

By the time he wakes up the following mornings, the few residents of the castle have long started their day. He sits with a lukewarm cup of coffee on the stairs outside, observing Aqua and Ventus daily training from afar. They always act like they haven't noticed his presence, but he knows they are only accommodating him until he is fully ready to engage with them. Despite their own torments and struggles, they welcome him with arms wide open. He often thinks he is imposing on them but he also understands the emptiness of the place must weigh heavy on their souls. 

When they eventually stop for a well-deserved lunch break, Isa wanders off past the gate. There is so much to see of this world, untamed nature all over held between Light and Darkness. But he never goes far. He quickly gazes at the decorated grave on his way and stops a few feet away, where he sits on the grass, back pressed to a stony wall. 

He waits there for as long as needed, white clouds drifting across the infinite blue sky, breaking over the lofty mountain ridges. He waits there, wind ruffling his unkempt hair, sun hitting his barely-exposed skin. He waits until a warm body sits next to him, leg pressed to his. 

"I brought lunch," the newcomer explains as he offers a small basket to Isa. He smiles at the attention, discreet, that doesn't quite reach his eyes. 

"Thank you,"  _ Terra _ , he almost adds, but the name doesn't want to leave his lips. He frowns, and instead, he lays his head against his shoulder. 

He closes his head and breathes in, a familiar and comforting scent filling his nose. It smells like the earth after the rain, warm, nurturing, alive. And if he concentrates hard enough, there's the lingering scent of boiling darkness, yet so much fainter - contained, controlled - and it's all wrong. 

He can feel eyes on him, looking over his body, carefully taking in everything they are allowed to. But they don't see  _ him _ . And he doesn't either. 

The hand he squeezes his large and calloused, well known. Isa knows what every crevice, every inch of skin looks like, he has studied it for hours, and he can almost remember what it feels like against his own skin. And as he presses his thumb to his palm, he catches himself wishing for bright saber light instead of a cold dark keyblade. 

And it's all wrong. 

There's nothing there anymore. Fallen on the battleground, vanished in a pillar of shadows. Gone. 

_ He _ 's gone. 

_ They _ 're no more. 

Yet, they are what's left. And it will have to do. 

It will have to do.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/imnotanironwall) \- [carrd](https://imnotanironwall.carrd.co/)


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